pretty little girl: a slate on which parents and governesses had
made a few scrawls that I had to wipe out. And then I filled it
with inscriptions that suited my own mind, until you believed the
slate could hold nothing more. That's the reason, you know, why I
shouldn't care to be in your husband's place--well, that's his
business! But it's also the reason why I take pleasure in meeting
you again. Our thoughts fit together exactly. And as I sit here
and chat with you, it seems to me like drinking old wine of my own
bottling. Yes, it's my own wine, but it has gained a great deal in
flavour! And now, when I am about to marry again, I have purposely
picked out a young girl whom I can educate to suit myself. For the
woman, you know, is the man's child, and if she is not, he becomes
hers, and then the world turns topsy-turvy.

TEKLA. Are you going to marry again?

GUSTAV. Yes, I want to try my luck once more, but this time I am
going to make a better start, so that it won't end again with a
spill.

TEKLA. Is she good looking?

GUSTAV. Yes, to me. But perhaps I am too old. It's queer--now when
chance has brought me together with you again--I am beginning to
doubt whether it will be possible to play the game over again.

TEKLA. How do you mean?

GUSTAV. I can feel that my roots stick in your soil, and the old
wounds are beginning to break open. You are a dangerous woman,